


The Kids Are All Fucked Up

by my99centdreams



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 21:28:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my99centdreams/pseuds/my99centdreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The coffee cups all smell like vodka and the sheets all have cigarette burns in them and sometimes Gerard looks at Frank like he doesn't know who he is or what he's doing there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kids Are All Fucked Up

He remembers how he'd lie on the floor next to Gerard's mom's record player, someone like Etta James or Nina Simone crooning softly in his ear because there was this beauty in listening to sad songs sung by even sadder women that made Frank want to sprawl out on his back on Gerard’s smelly carpet, while Gerard told him about his nightmares. Gerard would sit propped up against the wall, a cigarette in one hand and a coffee cup in the other, spinning some tale about murder and the mafia and his grandma dying and shooting himself in the head. Frank used to think that was cool too, having fucked up nightmares that you could sketch when you woke up, have them turn into these intricate stories that people were fascinated by. Frank is fifteen and a half and doesn't know that when someone talks to you about killing themselves you're supposed to do something about it and say something beautiful, something they've been waiting a long time to hear. Frank is fifteen and a half and no one told him what order words have to be put in in order for them to be beautiful.

Frank doesn't listen to the record player anymore because one time when Gerard was drunk he tripped over the cord and spilled vodka all over it, but he does still lie on the floor. Gerard trips a lot when he’s drunk; sometimes he forgets Frank’s on the floor and ends up falling on top of him when he tries to get out of bed for the remote or a new pencil or more alcohol. One time though, they were both laughing really hard because Star Trek was on and Gerard knew every fucking word and Gerard just toppled over on him. He remembers his breath just whooshing right out of his body from the shock of the impact and how in the second it took to figure out how to breathe with Gerard’s weight on him he got hard. Gerard was soft and warm on top of him and Frank just wanted to touch him. Gerard smirked when he realized and underneath the ‘it’s okay’ look there was something wicked lurking in the upturned corner of his mouth that made Frank nervous.

When Gerard was the right amount of drunk, not too drunk to puke but not sober enough to think twice about what he said or did, he would pull Frank down next to him in that dirty bed of his. He wrapped his arms around Frank's belly and hips and tangled their legs together and pressed his lips to the back of Frank's neck. He would press soft kisses there and Frank couldn't stop the shudders that ran throughout his body or the soft sounds that fell out because that was the spot for him; if you so much as brushed your fingers across it he was yours. Gerard knew this. Sometimes he’d whisper things like "Frankie" and "innocent" and "could you get hard just from this" and Frank really could because Frank was a virgin who jacked off about twelve times a week and Gerard was the prettiest boy he'd ever seen in his life. It didn’t matter that Gerard was the boy who went to parties for the free booze and popped Xanax like candy, he was Frank’s best friend.

Gerard has a thing for alcohol and Frank has a thing for Gerard. He wants to be the person Gerard needs at night. It’s okay though because Frank hears things like “if it doesn’t hurt, it’s not love” and thinks the ache in his chest is supposed to be there even though it makes it hard to breathe at times. But then there were times where they’d go to movies and hold hands in the back row or make out in strangers’ bedrooms at house parties or spend hours drinking shitty coffee in even shittier diners after a really good show. You’ve got to take the bad with the good, isn’t that what everyone says?

He doesn’t like to dwell on how much bad there is, like how it’s never a guarantee that Gerard will pull Frank into bed with him. Sometimes he’d get drunk and kiss the back of Frank's neck; sometimes he’d get drunk and scream at Frank until his face was red and his chest was heaving. He never figured out what he did wrong so he left, running the nine blocks to his house so he could puke in the Sallers' rose bush and have his mom give him sleeping pills. He didn't go back to the Ways' house after that for two weeks because Frank knows when he's unwanted and it leaves behind a churning in his stomach and a bitter taste in the back of his throat. He got his friends to take him to shows of bands he'd never even heard of so he could get black eyes and split lips in the pits and like the way he looked for a while. When they were too busy (“SAT’s, Frank” “college, Frank”) to take him he would take the bus. It's funny because Frank didn't even know Jersey had buses; he thought that was a New York thing.

He remembers swaying in the crowd, just trying to get into it enough so that when the pit opened up he wouldn’t give a shit if someone ended up breaking his fucking nose, when someone latched onto his wrist and dragged him outside. When he finally looked up Gerard was standing in front of him, stuttering (it’s a nervous habit) his way through an apology. He didn’t hear most of it, he was too caught up in how bright Gerard's eyes looked despite the bags under them and how clean his hair was and how he smelled like cigarettes and apples when he hugged Frank. Frank smiled, almost fucking split his face in half with how big he was grinning, and Gerard did that half hysterical laugh he always did when he realized he never _really_ lost Frank.

Gerard was _clean_ and _sober_ and he cupped both of Frank's cheeks when he kissed him. The cut on his lip stung and his hands dangled at his sides because he didn't know where to put them but it was perfect. Gerard pulled away first, smiling out of the corner of his mouth and Frank hadn't seen that in over two weeks. If you asked him, it was the best night of his life.

He remembers getting drunk one night to see if it made Gerard seem sober and taking off his shirt, sprawling out on the floor with a cigarette in his mouth as Gerard drew him because no matter how drunk he was he could still draw like the talented piece of shit he was. And the best part is that when Gerard leaves for art school in the fall Frank will still be here; lying on the floor with his shirt off, a half smoked cigarette in his hand, listening to silence; trying to hear the sound of rustling papers and biting his fucked up lip because the sting feels like their last kiss and Frank’s not okay with the idea that he could one day forget that. The coffee cups all smell like vodka and the sheets all have cigarette burns in them and sometimes Gerard looks at Frank like he doesn't know who he is or what he's doing there.


End file.
